


Seven Nation Army

by ShadowJaySmith



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, lincoln x skye, static quake - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-13
Updated: 2016-06-02
Packaged: 2018-04-26 03:45:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 19,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4988983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShadowJaySmith/pseuds/ShadowJaySmith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For about six years now Lincoln has been working for a covert branch of SHIELD they call the inhumans initiative. He couldn’t tell anyone leading a double life and lying to his friends until one is kidnapped and he learned the truth about who he really worked for. Now they have to save her and keep her from their hands at all costs. Static Quake (Skye/Lincoln) AU with minor Fitzsimmons</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sabotage

“You ready?” he looked at his redhead partner, who only smirked,

“When am I not?” Her eyes turned white and three copies stepped out of her. He was never going to get used to that.

It was easy. They snuck through the vents of the compound, radio silent until one of them found the package. “ _Lincoln I’m in the computers_ ,” she said over the comms, “ _it says the package is on sub-level two, room 46_.”

“Okay, I’ll meet you there.” He whispered back and then froze. He looked down and saw a guard just below his knees.  _Shit_ , he cursed, as the guard’s eyes traveled upwards to the vents where he was hiding.

The guard slowly lifted his gun and Lincoln held his breath. The man pressed his finger down slowly on the trigger and Lincoln knew there was no escape. He popped out the screen and jumped on top of the guard. He rolled off the man and jumped to his feet. The guard immediately went for his glock. Lincoln punched him in the nose as a distraction. He stepped back, and put his hand out in front of him, electricity hitting the man right in the chest. He threw the guard down another hall, effectively knocking him out.

He straightened up and began to walk quickly down the hall, running down the steps and ducking around a corner to avoid three guards. He began to sprint almost silently down the gray halls, counting the numbers until he reached 46. He sent electricity through the handle, sending it flying off. He stepped into the room and stopped. There, in the center of the space stood a pedestal with a silver obelisk on it.

He opened up his backpack and picked up the diviner carefully, and slipping it safely inside. Suddenly, an alarm went off, making him jump. “ _Lincoln, we’ve been made!_ ” she yelled in his ear, “ _I’ll meet you at the extraction point!_ ”

“Got it!” He said as he sprinted down the hall to the vent he’d crawled through to get in. “I have the package!”

He went back and forth, but right now, running through an enemy compound and watching them stumble over each other to try and find the inhumans, he loved his job.

* * *

There was a knock on the glass door of her office, and she looked up from her paperwork. “Come in.” She said politely.

A man whose face was devoid of eyes poked his head in, “Jiaying, Alicia and Lincoln are back from their mission.”

She nodded thoughtfully, “Send them in.” He opened the door further and ushered the young inhumans into the clean and minimalistic office. “Hello,” she smiled, “how was the mission?”

“It was alright,” Alicia said, “we got made halfway through, though.”

“Did you retrieve the diviner?” She asked and Lincoln pulled it out of his bag and placed it on her desk.

“All in one piece,” He said, “I don’t think they figured out how to use it.”

“Of course not,” she said, picking up the diviner and admiring it, “Hydra may believe themselves to be great scientists, capable of amazing things, but in truth,” she glanced at the two, smiling darkly, as if she were about to say an inside joke of some sort, “they are just men, in a world that’s gone far beyond that.”

Lincoln smiled slightly and glanced over at Alicia to see her mirroring Jiaying’s expression. “Hydra has been fighting for so long now over the control of the earth that they don’t even know it isn’t theirs anymore.” She placed the diviner in a silver case.

“Whose is it then?” Lincoln frowned and she turned back to look at him, her plain and masked expression ever-present on her scared yet beautiful features.

“It’s the people’s,” she said, and he furrowed his brow, which people? He thought.

He admired Jiaying, but he didn’t really understand her sometimes, and he knew she had an axe to grind with Hydra, and was, maybe, therefore biased. But she was protecting their kind, so maybe she was right to be suspicious of them and their motives.

“Thank you for retrieving this,” she said after a moment, “now go home, both of you, and rest,” he smiled warmly “you deserve it.”

“Thank you.” Alicia said, and Lincoln nodded, both of them turning to leave.

He adjusted his grip on the duffel bag in his right hand as he walked through the office to the elevators at the far end, waving goodbye to the person he’d just been working with.

“Bye, Alicia,” he smiled, “actually wait,” he stopped, putting his bag down and ushering her over.

“What?” She frowned, as he rummaged around in his backpack.

“Take this,” he held out a piece of gauze and her frown deepened, “for your cut,” he clarified.

“Oh, thanks,” She smiled and took it.

“Listen, I got to go but,” he began to gather up his things quickly, “you should go in and have someone check that out and clean it.”

“Why are you in such a hurry, I hope I’m not that terrible of company,” she smirked and he laughed,

“No, I’m just going to be late,” he got up and began to rush to the elevator again, riding it up anxiously and practically running through the building’s lobby to the doors, catching a cab outside almost immediately.

Once he sat down in the back seat, his phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out to read the message his cousin had sent him,

_J: Where are you?_

He smiled and wrote back,

_L: On my way._

Just as he was putting it back in his pocket, it vibrated again,

_J: It’s your turn to cook remember? I’m not covering for you AGAIN._

_L: Sorry, I had to stop by the office. I’m coming down the street right now._

_J: Skye’s on her way!_

He fumbled with his keys, finally unlocking the door and dropping his stuff in the front hall, “ _There_  you are!” Jemma scolded gently, standing up from where she’d been sitting in their living room and coming to give him a hug.

“Hey, Jem,” he said hugging her back.

“How was your trip?” she asked, walking into the kitchen and opening up the fridge.

“It was alright,” he said, pulling off his coat and hanging it on the rack, “how was it back here?”

“Uneventful,” she said plainly, handing him a beer as he came into the kitchen. He smiled at her obvious boredom of her day-to-day life, and began to boil some water. “So where did you go this time?” she asked, walking around the island, sitting on one of the stools and facing him.

“London, actually,” he said and she smiled,

“Oh, that’s nice,” she said lightly, “how was the weather; was it as terrible as you constantly say?” she teased.

“The weather is always terrible there, Jem.” He smiled, taking a sip of his beer, as she laughed.

Her phone buzzed, as she pulled it from the bowl where it normally resided on the island’s countertop. “That’ll be Fitz,” she smiled, “and… he’s lost his wallet” her face fell and Lincoln choked slightly on his drink, “he can’t call a cab so I have to go get him.”

Lincoln laughed and she rolled her eyes at him, “Try not to set the house on fire!” she called as she began to walk out.

“You almost set it on fire last time, not me!” he laughed and she turned around as she opened the door,

“It was Skye and Fitz, not me!” She said and he laughed,

“You were supposed to supervise!” She scoffed and rolled her eyes, closing the door behind her.

He shook his head, still smiling as he went back to the task of cooking dinner. After a couple of moments, he heard a voice outside, and he looked up to see Skye opening the door and tucking her keys into her pocket. She smiled, shutting the door and sighing, her eyes meeting his.

If possible, his smile grew as she marched into the kitchen and opened the fridge forcefully, pulling out a beer “You know what I hate?” she asked, as he began to cut some basil.

“What?” he grinned, glancing at her as she pushed herself up on the counter next to him.

“Being a reporter.” She said mournfully, taking a sip of her beer as he laughed again,

“Why?”

“I’m never writing about anything interesting, like I used to,” She said wistfully,

“On your blog you mean?” he asked as she took another sip of her beer,

“Mhm,” she nodded, swallowing, “and whenever I bring up an idea for a story, I always get shot down.”

“Did you tell them about that big story you won’t tell me anything about?” he asked.

“Yes! And they said it wasn’t plausible and that I couldn’t corroborate anything!” she said exasperatedly, “I mean what’s the point?”

“Well maybe you should go work somewhere else?” he suggested gently and she shrugged.

“Maybe.” She paused, watching him as he worked. “Speaking of working other places…”

“Come on, Skye, not this again—” Lincoln glanced warningly up at his friend on the counter.

“—Don’t ‘come on Skye’ me!” She said indignantly, hopping off the counter as he went to a drawer under where she’d just been sitting. “It’s taking up your whole life!”

“It’s important—”

“—And you’re a med student for crying out loud,” she said, “what does working at a bank have to do with that?”

“It’s a great opportunity for—” he said but she continued talking over him,

“—You’re jetlagged like, all the time, I don’t know how you even get up in the morning, they call you in at the worst times possible, like last year they called you in on Christmas—which should be illegal—and you act like it’s life and death, and,” she paused and stepped in front of him so he’d stop moving around and look her in the eyes, “you’re not as happy as you think you are.”

“Skye,” he put his hands on her shoulders, “I’m fine, I promise. Now, can we please stop talking about this?”

They stared at each other for a long moment, so long that the air was starting to feel warm, or maybe he was just imagining it. “Lincoln?”

“Yeah?”

“I think the food’s going to burn.”

“Oh, right,” he pulled away and turned back to the stove.

“Speaking of,” she leaned against the sink, picking up her beer and taking another sip, “what’s for dinner?”

“Your favorite.” He smiled, as he began to cut some tomatoes.

“The tomato thing?” she gasped excitedly, stepping over to stand next to him.

“Yeah, you mind cutting some of these for me?” He smiled and she nodded.

“Yeah, sure, one sec,” She walked around the island and put her drink down on the island and walking over to where her purse rested on the couch. She pulled out her phone and picked it up, “Hey Jemma. Yeah I’m here already. Really, how bad?”

“What’s wrong?” he asked and she turned away from the phone,

“They’re stuck in some really bad traffic.” She turned back to the phone but didn’t speak, “And… now they’re bickering again.” She smiled at him and he laughed,

“Of course,” he grabbed the olive oil off a shelf, “ask them how long they’re going to be.”

“Jemma, how long do you think you’ll be?” Skye said as Lincoln walked out of the kitchen to move his bags from the front hall.

He walked down the hall and threw them on his bed as Skye yelled, “ _A half an hour?_!”

He walked back into the kitchen, “Really, that long?” he asked and she threw her free hand up in the air exasperatedly.

“Alright, okay yeah, sorry.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “Well isn’t there another road you could take or something, I mean, why do you try taking the—”

Suddenly, something broke the window, flying into the room and landing near Skye’s feet. “What the hell—?” Skye pulled the phone away from her ear and took a step closer to the projectile.

His heart skipped a beat. He walked around the island into the living room. “Skye, get away from—” he began warningly, before the lights went out and an extremely bright light filled the room.

A force threw them back, and he collided with the counter, the stools falling on him. He pushed himself up by the elbows and tried to stand up. He was dizzy, and he fell back down. His ears were ringing and his head was heavy. He tried to form words but he couldn’t speak. He opened his eyes and it burned; he was blind, he couldn’t see.

“ _Skye…?!_ ” he managed to slur, trying to open his eyes again.

He vaguely heard the front door burst open. Men rushed in, their dark boots heavy and rumbling. The back of his eyes were in terrible pain, but he forced them open again. One of the men stomped on Skye’s phone, and he let his eyes slip closed again.

“What are you doing?!” Skye yelled, the ringing in his ears starting to subside.

He pried his eyes open again, turning his head to see men grabbing her arms and lifting her off the ground. “ _Let me go!_ ” she yelled, louder this time.

“ _Skye!_ ” he cried, more in control of his voice now, but eyes still on fire.

“Lincoln!” she yelled, kicking as they dragged her away. “ _Lincoln!_ ” She screamed.

Something inside him started to tick again after that, “ _Skye!_ ” he shoved himself to his feet. He stumbled, and one of the men punched him. He fell against the counter. The man pursued him, but before he could land another punch, Lincoln kicked him in the stomach, sending the man flying.

“ _Lincoln!_ ” she screamed, trying to grab at the doorframe as they dragged her away.

He reached out for her, five men now attempting to keep him still. From the palm of his hand, blue light blossomed, and hit one of the men dragging her away. But it didn’t matter, they still pulled her from his sight, all he could hear were her blood-curdling screams.

“ _Skye!_ ” he managed to yell before the men finally pushed him to the ground. They began to kick him, repeatedly from all sides. All he could do was try and cover his face. Suddenly, it stopped and someone pulled at his shoulder, turning him onto his back.

“Lincoln?” Jemma’s worried eyes met his.

He jumped to his feet and looked around the smoke-filled apartment. They were all gone; they’d just up and vanished,

And they’d taken her with them.


	2. Ghost

He was sitting in the corner of the room, his arms hanging loosely over his knees. His clear blue eyes were cloudy, and staring at a point far off into the distance. Fitz and Jemma had spoken to him he doesn’t know how long ago, the ghosts of their words haunting the back of his mind.

_“Wha—where did they go?” he asked loudly, his head spinning._

_“Where did who go?” Fitz asked, waving the smoke out of his face._

_“Fitz, could you please go turn off the stove?” he nodded and disappeared, “Lincoln, what happened?” Jemma said, trying to catch the attention of her dazed and bloody cousin._

_“They took her,” he muttered, stumbling a bit, Jemma and Fitz catching him. “there was uh, they were—they were kicking me and then…” he looked around, how did they disappear?_

_Neither Jemma nor Lincoln had noticed that Fitz had stepped away until he bent down and used his shirt sleeve to pick something up, “Jemma…” he said warningly, holding out the relatively small object so she could see._

_“It can’t be,” she murmured, stepping away from Lincoln to look more closely at it._

_“What, what is it?” Lincoln asked and they both turned to him abruptly._

_“It’s just,” Jemma looked from Lincoln to Fitz who gave her a look that said: you’re on your own with this one, “something we’ve come across before, that’s all.” she said in that sweet way he knew meant she was trying to avoid something._

_“Jemma, what is it?” He asked and Fitz sighed,_

_“It’s a type of grenade that releases a paralyzing toxin that stops your sense of time,” Fitz supplied, “maybe that’s why you’re so confused.”_

_“I—how…” he stumbled on his words, his thoughts moving a million miles per hour, and his tongue far behind in the chase._

But the specter that echoed in his ears was the one of her screams. Each time he heard his name screamed in the deepest tone of pain and suffering, his chest clenched, and he flinched a little. There was something all the more painful about how she only called out his name; it was like he was her last hope, her tether, and he’d failed her. What a horrible creature he was, he probably scared her half to death, using his powers like that in such an uncontrolled and strange fashion, just after all those terrible and confusing events transpired; now what would she think of him?

Some time ago, the two scientists present had begun to talk quietly and quickly about the tech used to take out one of their friends and kidnap the other. Not long after that, they began to make phone calls, and soon they were taking pictures of the scene and discussing the plan for moving forward. But, still lost in his thoughts and fears, Lincoln didn’t notice. He didn’t ask any questions when Jemma pulled him to his feet and lead him to her car; he didn’t ask where they were going or why, because he couldn’t hear anything over the screams, it was like his ears were still ringing from the device that started this downward spiral.

“We made this, Jemma,” Fitz whispered to his best friend in the front seat, indicating a small circular object, “someone took two of our designs and combined them.”

Lincoln could indistinctly hear their voices from under the haze of shock, “Jemma, are ye listening to me?” Fitz asked desperately.

“Yes, I know!” she whispered back with equal lack of subtlety, “How did they get it?”

“I’ve no idea,” he said exasperatedly, “the only people we gave it to were—”

“ _Shh!_ ” Jemma hissed, glancing at her cousin in the rear-view mirror, “Not yet, Fitz!”

“You don’t think that this was them do ye?” Fitz said, the idea dawning on him, as she took a slow turn down another surprisingly empty LA boulevard,

“Of course not.” She said as though the simple thought was ridiculous, “God, I sure hope no one pulls us over…” she muttered.

“Why?” Fitz frowned.

“Well, I haven’t got my license renewed yet, and we can’t afford to lose any time,” she said and he looked at her incredulously.

“How come ye haven’t renewed it yet then?” He said as though it were utterly ridiculous.

“How come you haven’t even got one yet?” She looked back at him with a mirrored expression.

“Guys,” Lincoln interrupted, his voice hoarse, and his cadence reflecting exhaustion, “where are we going?”

“Uh, well,” Jemma stumbled on her words and looked worriedly at Fitz who turned around in his seat to look at his friend.

“We’ll tell ye after ye tell us how those scorch marks got everywhere.” He said.

“Oh,  _Fitz!_ ” Jemma protested, and he looked at her,

“What, I’d like to know,” He said and Jemma still shook her head slightly, “it’s the only think that can’t be accounted to either the people present or the tech they left behind.”

“Well maybe they took it with them,” Jemma suggested exasperatedly and he turned so he was no longer looking at Lincoln, [whose question wasn’t answered, he might add] and frowned.

“Why would they take that with them and leave all the other tech?”

“Maybe it was hand-held, and they didn’t have enough time to get all the other stuff.” She said and he turned abruptly back to Lincoln, who flinched a bit,

“Did they try to use a flame-thrower on ye? Or maybe it was some sort of electrical charge meant to scare ye off—” He suggested and Lincoln frowned incredulously at him, as he found himself doing too often when it came to conversations with Fitz.

“—Fitz will you stop it! What use would they have for a flame thrower?” She said and he looked back at her,

“Well, I don’t know, Jemma, why don’t ye ask Tripp about it!” He snapped and she rolled her eyes,

“Not this again, Fitz, why can’t you just leave him alone?” She said and he shook his head,

“Listen,” he said very seriously, “I’m just saying, they used all those precautions to immobilize Lincoln for some reason, and maybe they thought he was scary enough to use a flame-thrower to scare him.”

Lincoln stopped listening right about then, thinking about what the scorch marks had really been from, and wondering how he could keep something like this from them. They were his best friends; his closest confidantes who told him everything, why did his curse have to be that he kept everything from them?

“Uh, Jemma?” Fitz said tentatively, “I think we’ve got a shadow,”

“What?” she asked, turning to look herself as they stopped at a red light.

The black SUV had been relatively far back, rolling slowly after them as they drove down the avenue, the last flashes of the sunset fading over the ocean. But now, it began to speed up, and it was coming towards them fast, and both the scientist were frozen.

“Jemma!” Lincoln yelled suddenly, making her just and turn to him abruptly, “ _Drive!_ ”

And she didn’t need to be told twice, “ _Fitz, give me another route, preferably one that’s faster!_ ”

Lincoln grabbed onto the door as she took a sharp turn and Fitz typed frantically on his tablet that just seems to always magically appear. “You know you guys still haven’t told me where we’re going—”

“— _Not now, Lincoln!_ ” then both yelled in unison.

“Fitz!” She said desperately, and he nodded quickly, his heart beating miles faster than Jemma was already going over the speed limit.

“Got it, got it!” He said, “Take a left!”

She screeched around the corner and Lincoln was thrown against his door, his seatbelt was the only thing keeping him safely down. “Fitz! Call for some help!”

He pulled out his phone and turned back to Lincoln, handing it to him, “Call Bobbi!” He yelled and Lincoln began the surprisingly long process of completing this task.

“What’s your password?” Lincoln yelled as Fitz told her the next directions,

“Nine, eleven, eighty-seven!” He yelped as she swung around another corner.

Lincoln entered it, frowning in spite of himself, searching for Bobbi in his contacts. “ _Hey, Fitz, what’s up?_ ”

“Hi, this isn’t Fitz, uh this is his friend and we’re currently being chased through LA, can you please send help?!” He put his hand over the phone, “Who is this again?!” he yelled, shoulder slamming against the car door as the car sped up behind them.

“Fitz, they’re gaining on us!” She pressed her foot further down on the gas pedal. The light was changing. There didn’t seem to be anyone waiting. Bobbi was asking Lincoln a million questions, while also arguing with someone else on the other side. His stomach turned upside-down. He couldn’t help but think something bad was about to happen.

As she sped through the intersection, Fitz’s eye caught on another black SUV speeding right towards their right side. He grabbed the wheel and spun them. The car rammed into their tail end and went spiraling out of control, crashing into a telephone pole. Their tail swerved and got around them, but slammed sideways into a building. But the three friends weren’t out of the fire.

Jemma screamed as they continued spinning, she was just barely keeping away from the window. Fitz had let go of the wheel and grabbed onto the door. She pulled her foot off the gas. The phone flew from Lincoln’s fingers, hitting the window and cracking. She slammed down on the brakes but they careened into the side of a garage. Fitz tried to duck his head down, but he just slammed into a lower part of the door. Jemma face-planted into the steering wheel upon impact. Lincoln tried to brace himself on the back of Fitz’s seat, but he still got knocked into the window, shattering it.

The engine lay steaming, Lincoln’s temple resting in a pile of broken glass, Jemma’s brow glistening scarlet and Fitz’s ear filling with blood and forehead bruising. The eerie silence retuned, filling the previously disturbed Los Angeles streets.

All was quiet.


	3. Beautiful Crime

 

Skye awoke to a cold room and dark shackles keeping her in her chair and from parting with the table she was sitting at. Her eyes lifted as she took in the space; there wasn't much to work with in the way of figuring out where she was, just simple concrete walls and a two-way mirror.

Although she regarded her surroundings immediately, her first coherent thought was of her best friend. Did they have him too? Was he here with her? Why was she here?  _They better not touch him_ , she growled mentally.

The door opened behind her, and a man stepped around her, looking at her, even though her had no eyes. She took a deep breath and scooted back in her chair ever so slightly. He folded his arms and stood in the corner. She could tell he was observing her, she just didn’t know how, you know, with the lack of eyes and all.

“Don’t mind Gordon,” A sickeningly smooth voice said from behind her, “he’s just here as a precaution.”

She shut the door and stepped over to the chair across from Skye, sitting down elegantly. Skye shifted back father. “There’s no need to be scared, Skye, we’re just here to talk.”

“Who are you?” Skye asked quickly,

“My name’s Jiaying,” she smiled, fixing her robes, “and you are?”

There was a long pause as Skye avoided the question she’d been meaning to ask herself for about twenty-seven years now. “Why am I here?” She said, changing the subject.

“I understand you’ve been doing a piece on what you’ve been calling the ‘Inhumans Initiative’.” Skye’s heart skipped about three beats, “I’m just wondering where you found out that name from.”

“I’m not at liberty to say.” She said smugly.

“May I ask why?”

“I’m not sure the answer you’ll receive will satisfy you.”

“Try me.” Jiaying said and Skye crossed her arms.

“I’ll tell you if you give me something in return.” She said, trying a different angle.

“What do you want?” Jiaying said, obviously not prepared to give it to her.

“Don’t worry it’s just some information.” Skye said and Jiaying scoffed,

“Always the reporter, aren’t you, Skye?” She smiled, “What do you want to know?”

“Lincoln.” She stated and Jiaying frowned.

“What about Lincoln?”

“Are you going to try and use him as leverage to get me to talk?” She said quietly, and Jiaying’s expression changed minutely, “What I’m trying to ask is did you take him too or just me?”

“I know what you’re trying to ask.”

“Then what’s the answer?” Skye said impatiently and Jiaying just smiled the same smug smile Skye had previously donned.

“I’m not at liberty to say.”

Skye groaned and rolled her eyes, sliding down lower in her chair.

“So why don’t you tell me where you’re getting your information from?” She said in her calming voice.

“A good reporter never gives away their sources,” Skye said pointedly, “especially if they’re a faceless government conspiracy.”

“I see.” She said, glancing down at her folded hands disappointedly, “Well, I guess we’ll just be back later to see if you change your mind.”

She stood to leave, the eye-less man behind her, and Skye straightened, “You can’t just keep me here!” she protested, and the woman glancing back at her as though she were a petulant child.

“It’s like you said,” she smiled her sickly sweet smile, “we’re a faceless government conspiracy,” she shrugged, “we can keep you here as long as we want.”

“What?” Skye spluttered, becoming panicked.

“You have no rights, no freedom, and no one coming to get you,” she said, stepping out the door and just before it shut, “goodnight, Skye.”

“Wait no come back—!” Skye called, but when they only locked the door she slammed her fists only the table and let out a guttural noise of anguish.

Suddenly, she heard a hissing noise and she looked up to see the room filling with a white gas. She started to feel woozy. The corner of her vision turned black. Everything was out of focus, and then she face-planted into the cool metal surface of the interrogation table.

* * *

Lincoln had long-since awoken to see a friendly blonde woman commenting sarcastically on something or other. They lead him off the van they’d treated his wounds in, and separated him from Fitz and “Simmons”, as they called her. Four armed guards following behind him and the blonde woman lead him to a conference room on the fourth floor. She pulled out a chair in the center of the table, and he sat down in front of the wall of windows.

“I’m Bobbi, by the way,” She said after a moment, as if trying to make him feel better by starting conversation.

“Okay.” He said, his voice hoarse due to its recent lack of use.

“You don’t talk very much do you?” She said after another long moment of studying him with a matching frown.

“Not to people I don’t really know, no.” He said and she nodded, unaffected by his dull jab at her, and another long moment of silence filled the air.

“Can I get you anything?” She asked, raising an eyebrow slightly, and Lincoln’s head jerked up, not expecting her to speak to him again since it’d been so long, “Soda? Coffee?”

“No, I’m okay,” he said quietly, “thanks.”

She nodded, folding her hands and turning to leave. She almost looked mournful when she’d bid her silent farewell. It was like she pitied him for what was about to happen; what  _was_  about to happen, he wondered. She closed the door softly behind her and the guard in the left corner of the room shifted in his combat boots. It was quiet enough to hear a pin drop on the cheap gray carpet.

He heard muffled voices outside and he leaned forward in his chair. The men in Kevlar quickly put their trigger fingers on their namesake. He froze as they all eyed him warily, and he sat back slowly. The door opened and she came back in, followed by a man, older looking and well dressed; he was obviously in charge.

“Hello, Lincoln,” he said, sitting down across from the man at the other end of this one-sided conversation, “my name is Phil Coulson, how are you feeling?”

Lincoln didn’t answer, but the silence he left unfilled wasn’t replaced with tension, just a silent acknowledgement, and so Coulson continued. “Listen, I’m sure you have a lot of questions that we can answer in due time—”

“—Why are there four guards in the room.” Lincoln interrupted, his question more of an order than a query, and Coulson looked slightly taken aback. “Why are you keeping me here; where are my friends—”

“There are four guards just as a precaution, and Fitzsimmons are downstairs in their workspace doing what they do best.”

“Which is what?”

“They’re looking at the evidence and trying to figure out what happened to your friend,” Lincoln tensed and looked away from him, “her name is Skye, right?”

Lincoln looked up at him suspiciously, taking his sweet time to reply, “Who are you  _really,_  Phil Coulson?”

“Just someone trying to help.” He said kindly and Lincoln raised his eyebrows,

“Is that so?” Lincoln asked disbelievingly, “Then why am I here, under lock-and-key and what is this place?”

Coulson looked at him for a long moment, and then spoke again, “We’re with the Strategic Homeland Intervention and Logistics Division.” He said and Lincoln’s glare darkened.

“That’s funny,” he said, “so am I.”

“Except that you’re not.” Coulson said matter-of-factly, “There’s no one on our roasters, hidden or otherwise, with someone named Lincoln Campbell.”

“It’s because we’re a black ops division created under director Fury’s orders, where is he?”

“I’m the director now.” Coulson said and Lincoln blinked.

“What?” He breathed and Coulson paused again, watching the boy figure it out. “No— _no_ there, there, there has to be, the Inhumans Initiative, check it again!”

“There’s no such thing as the ‘Inhumans Initiative’ under S.H.I.E.L.D.’s jurisdiction, Lincoln,” Coulson said simply, “whoever you work for, they don’t exist, and whatever you are, it’s unknown to us.”

“This is bullshit,” Lincoln said stubbornly, “I’m not saying another word, you have no right to keep me here against my will.”

This display of anger didn’t have the intended affect of returned annoyance, but it was of something else. There was another long pause before the Director spoke again. “This girl, the one who was taken, what’s her name?” He asked.

“Skye.”

“Skye, what?” Coulson asked and Lincoln scowled.

“Just Skye.”

Another pause, shorter this time.

“You may not remember me, but we’ve met before you know.”

“What?” Lincoln snapped, looking up at him confusedly.

“It must’ve been about fifteen years ago now,” he said, and Lincoln’s expression didn’t change, “we moved to a new town, me, my wife and our daughter.”

“Foster daughter.” Lincoln corrected stiffly, now avoiding Coulson’s eyes.

“She did always like the name Skye, didn’t she.” Coulson sighed, “she liked it much better than Daisy.”

Lincoln kept his mouth shut, but his jaw tightened as the older man spoke. “It’s a bit amazing that you guys have stayed friends all these years, if you’d ‘ve asked me back then I would’ve said—”

“—Stop.” Lincoln said forcefully, “Stop it.” He met Coulson’s eyes, “Stop pretending like you cared.”

Coulson kept his expression firm as Lincoln continued, “You left her—both of you, just up and left.” He said, “Seventeen year old girl and you disappeared, and left her alone. Do you know how long she’s been living with that unfinished thought? You made her think it was  _her_  fault, just like all the other ones. So yeah, Mr. Coulson, I  _do_  remember you, I was just hoping it wasn’t you, back from the dead to haunt us again.”

“It wasn’t my choice,” Coulson said brokenly, and Lincoln looked at him angrily, “if I could, we would’ve stayed there, with her, until she grew up but, things got in the way.”

“What  _things_?” Lincoln said disdainfully.

“I can’t explain them to you quite yet.” Coulson said carefully, only making Lincoln angrier.

“ _Why_?!” He asked and Coulson began to stand.

“Because I don’t trust you.”

* * *

“Skye,” someone said sweetly near her ear, “wake up, Skye.”

Skye opened her eyes blearily, lifted her head from the cold, metal surface it had been laying upon and looked around. Her eyes fell upon the stressed figure now sitting across from her, tied up and gagged. She jerked away from him and looked up at Jiaying, who’d reappeared, Gordon in tow.

“What the hell?” She asked as Gordon lifted a silver briefcase onto the table.

“Nice to see you again.” The woman smiled again and Skye glanced nervously back and forth between her new company of three.

Gordon opened the case and pulled out a silver obelisk, glinting sully under the light as he placed it on top of the case, “What is that?” she said, scooting back further in her chair.

“This is an ancient artifact of our people,” she said proudly, “recently recovered to us and now fully operational.”

Skye and the man across from her eyed it nervously, “What does it do?” She asked and Jiaying smiled.

“Many things, but what depends on you, actually.” She picked it up, and examined it with a sadistic pleasure, “But we’ll get to that in a minute.” She looked down at the man tied up across from Skye, “Is  _this_  your source?”

“No,” Skye said and Jiaying raised her eyebrows slightly,

“Are you sure?” She asked and Skye shook her head.

“Yes, I’m telling you, I’m not giving up my source!” Skye snapped.

“Then you won’t mind if I kill him?”

“Wha—?” She didn’t even get to finish her sentence before Jiaying pressed the obelisk to the man’s cheek and her turned to stone. Skye screamed and flailed around in her chair. Gordon put his hands on her shoulders and pressed her down into her seat.

“I guess since you won’t tell me, I’ll just plug the leak from this end,” Jiaying said over Skye’s noise, prying open the girl’s fingers and placing the obelisk in them, “Goodbye, Skye.”

Skye waited and waited. She wondered what it was going to be like. Where would she end up? Maybe she’d see all the people she’d lost on the way. Maybe she’d meet her parents. But she didn’t,

Because nothing happened.


	4. Drive it Like You Stole it

Bureaucracy and red tape were never things that Lincoln Campbell really enjoyed, but now, more than ever, he hated the calmness of the men in charge. Coulson had left the room approximately two and a half hours ago. The clock moved like melted caramel.

He was done waiting.

He stood from the chair and walked towards the door. "Hey," one of the guards said, "hey," he repeated more forcefully, grabbing Lincoln's arm. Much to this man's disadvantage, their prisoner wasn't scared of them, and he sure as hell wasn't sitting around for whoever had her to torture her to the point of no return.

Lincoln turned slowly to look at the roadblock currently impeding his way. "You don't want to do that." He growled softly, almost as if he were speaking to himself.

"Was that a  _threat_?" the man said all his comrades lifting their guns in unison.

"No," Lincoln closed his eyes, admitting defeat; he had no quarrel with these men, "no, I'm sorry, I'll go back."

The man nodded, loosening his grip on the inhuman's arm. This gave Lincoln enough space to pull his elbow free and knock the man in the face with it. He let himself fall to his knees. He lifted his palms inches above the floor and sent a wave of electricity through the carpet, all the men falling to the floor before anyone could fire a shot.

He pressed his ear to the door and listened for a second, hearing one voice talking about some mundane topic he didn't care to figure out. He burst out, slamming the door against the man to the right. He grabbed the collar of the man on his left and punched him in the nose, shattering his visor. He fell back and the other man, having recovered from a door to the face, grabbed Lincoln from behind. Lincoln used the crown of his head to hit the other man in the nose, but the guy had a death grip, and it was currently around Lincoln's neck, trying to subdue him. Lincoln began to hit him repeatedly in the side with his elbow, the man finally loosening his grip enough for Lincoln to slip free. The man fell to his knees and Lincoln, out of breath and red to the face, gave him a final knee to the face, watching momentarily as the man sprawled across the floor, finally down for the count.

Lincoln turned, still barely adjusted to the unlimited supply of air around him. The other man got unsteadily to his feet, shaking his head to clear it. He pulled off his helmet and put his fists up, challenging Lincoln again.

" _Seriously_?" Lincoln said breathily, putting his up as well.

The man jabbed at his face, and Lincoln stepped to avoid it. The guard was ready for that and went after him again, this time coming low and going for Lincoln's stomach. He barely missed; the inhuman's reflexes slightly faster than the agent's advances. Putting a bit too much force behind that last punch, the guard lost his balance. Lincoln took advantage by grabbing the guy's jacket and running him into a wall. Bending down quickly, Lincoln gave him a small shock; not so small that it tickled, but not so big that it killed the man.

On a usual mission, Lincoln would've taken time to hide the bodies, but Skye didn't have that time. Although his head had been covered with a bag, he was far from an amateur agent; he was able to count all the turns he'd made and which way, left or right, they'd been, remembered how many times the elevator rang, remembered the smell of metal and gasoline.

He sprinted down the halls, not a soul in sight for some time. He went down the elevator and turned to corners, looking for the garage. An agent came around the corner but before he could pull his gun, Lincoln jumped off the opposite wall and used the force to slam the man's head against the plaster and knock him out.

Finally he came to a big, open doorway, and all the people milling around froze to look at him. There was a long moment of still silence, both parties scared to move.

"…No, Fitz, we need to figure out how they were able to put two of our inventions together, let alone get them in the first place—oh, Lincoln!" Simmons looked up from the tablet she and Fitz were sharing.

"Did Coulson let you out?" Fitz frowned, neither of the two scientists noticing the standoff between Lincoln and the rest of the world.

"You," Lincoln said, out of breath again, "you  _work here_?" he said and Simmons looked oddly ashamed.

"We wanted to tell you and Skye but—" Fitz began before twenty men came barreling down the hallways after Lincoln.

" _FREEZE!_ " Their leader yelled, " _Nobody move!_ "

Simmons yelped and dropped the tablet, throwing her hands up, as did Fitz and everyone else. Lincoln raised his more slowly than the rest, turning to face his adversaries as he went. He looked at them and they looked at him. There was a pause, and Lincoln glanced back at his cousin and his friend.

"I'm sorry," he said softly. Jemma cocked her head slightly, and Fitz leaned back, bracing himself carefully.

Lincoln turned back to the guards, and gave them one glance before dropping down and sending a shockwave through the floor, just like he'd done in the conference room, but this time, it was bigger. All the men fell, as did the scientists behind him. He closed his eyes and let out a shaky breath, and they jumped to his feet. As he jogged past his family, he averted his eyes out of shame, and then sped up.

He wove through rows of vehicles and picked a relatively small car. He opened the door and began fumbling around for the keys. Outside the car window, he could hear the men beginning to wake, their groans and cries echoing throughout the warehouse-like structure. He finally gave up and pulled the wires out further from under the wheel. He began going through them, keeping low and looking out for the guards.

"Come on,  _come on,_ " he muttered as he cut the one he was supposed to and finally hotwired the car.

He sat up and immediately put on his seatbelt, not forgetting about his last encounter with a soon to be speeding car, which had been no less than four hours ago. He lifted his eyes and they caught on none other than the director himself. Lincoln smirked and snapped the car into reverse. Although his situation was serious, he couldn't help enjoying himself; the director of S.H.I.E.L.D., undoubtedly one of the most powerful men in the world, was staring bewilderedly at him. Lincoln turned to look behind the car as he drove straight through one of the garage doors.

Coulson let out a sigh as the screeches of the stolen car's tires faded into the distance. Fitzsimmons came to stand on either side of him, their eyebrows raised and mouths slightly open.

"Sir," Fitz said suddenly, "I'd just like to apologize on Lincoln's behalf—"

"—Yes," Simmons turned to the director as well, "I promise you, he's not usually like this."

"I know," Coulson said, "It's not your fault."

They nodded but still looked at the ground as though they were ashamed. "Excuse me." Coulson said softly, turning back to the main part of the facility.

"Sir," Simmons spoke as he walked quickly away, "Where are you going?"

Coulson turned back and looked at the pair darkly, "I think it's time to call in the Cavalry."

"Is that totally necessary?" Fitz asked defensively.

"At this point," Coulson said gravely, "yes, I think it is." With that he began to walk away and they followed a bit farther behind.

"Well I don't think so," Simmons said softly to her partner, "he's just confused and scared, I would be too."

"What was that agent Simmons?" Coulson asked over his shoulder.

"Nothing, sir," She said, and after a moment, she turned back to Fitz, "And I thought she didn't like being called the Cavalry."

"Me too," Fitz said, "maybe only Coulson is allowed to call her that."

Simmons nodded as they all stepped into an elevator. Coulson leaned forward to press the floor's designated button. "Now," he said, "I'm going to need you to tell me everything you know about Lincoln Campbell and your friend Skye."

* * *

Somehow, he found himself at Skye's apartment. He didn't even know where he was going when he'd ditched the car a couple blocks back, but now, standing in front of the shabby building, he knew it'd been his destination all along. He jogged up the steps to the door and fumbled with his keys, finally unlocking the door. He sprinted up all twelve flights, not waiting for the elevator. He unlocked that door in a matter of seconds, bursting into the room like a mad man.

Out of habit, he tossed his keys into the bowl on the table, and shucked of his jacket, throwing it onto the couch. He walked forward into the dining room of the tiny apartment. He looked out the huge wall of windows that sold her on this apartment when Fitz and Jemma had convinced her to move out of her van. He'd rather liked the van, but he enjoyed being able to sit at a table when he came over.

The apartment itself was sparsely decorated; having live in a van she didn't have many options for furniture, all of which was unmatched except for the table's chairs. The dining room table, overlooking the LA skyline, was covered in letters and receipts and magazines. There was this warm smell, like old wood or something cozy like that, it always seemed to fill up her living spaces. He half expected her to walk in to the room from the kitchen, which was off to his right. Or maybe come out of the doorway to the right, where the bathroom and her bedroom are, bedhead and pjs, complaining about how early it was in the morning, even if it was far past the time acceptable for a grown woman to wake up.

That's when it hit him again; she was gone.

He grabbed the back of a chair with one hand and covered his face with the other. A sob racked his body, silent and painful. He ran his hand over his face and through his hair, pulling harshly at the roots. Were this his house, he would've begun to throw things, but something about this place and it's unholy quietness drove him to a more subdued fury. The place's cute clutter almost filled up all the space and the air was so close to being warm and comforting, but the most important piece of this sanctuary was missing.

He walked into the crappy kitchen and opened the cabinet above the fridge, pulling out a bottle of scotch Skye kept up there. He unscrewed the cap and threw it on the counter, then as he walked out of the kitchen back towards the living room, he took a hard swig, the amber liquid burning his dry throat. He threw himself onto the couch when a thought occurred to him;

what if he was in love with Skye?

The thought only made him cry and hit the bottle harder. He was so useless, unable to defend himself or help her; how the hell was he ever going to find her? He settled in on the couch like he'd done so many times before, and took another long sip from the bottle and then placed it down next to him on the floor. Where does he start? What does he look for? He  _was_  in her apartment after all, this was the best evidence he was likely to get his hands on.

He sat up abruptly and wiped his cheeks, brows furrowed and shoulders hunched forward. He looked around and stood quickly, walking to the dining room table once more to start moving through the stacks of paper, looking for clues. Most of them were bank [or otherwise] statements, some person letters, conformation notices, nothing suspicious. Something on the other side of the table caught his eye. He dropped the envelope he'd been holding and tried to quickly move to reach it, but only managed to knock into a chair and fell over, the chair on top of him.

He cursed and stood, fixing the chair and picking up the paper and finding that it was also nothing. He took a deep breath, putting it down and turning to her room. He walked in slowly, eyeing the room carefully. Scattered, was a good way to describe it; everything was everywhere. Never the less, he set to work, overturning piles of clothes and gently moving dirty cups and dishes she never brought back to the kitchen. He walked over to her bedside table, glancing at the overflowing closet on the other side of the bed and grimacing;  _I'll save that for last._

He turned back to the nightstand and froze. How had he never seen this before, he'd been here a million times, how had he never noticed it before? His hand trembled slightly as he picked up the simple frame. The picture was of the three of them, him, Jemma and Fitz, sitting on a wall with their back to the camera, overlooking Montréal. They'd gone up there a couple years ago, stayed for a week in the summer. It was a very Skye sort of photo to take; Fitz launching into this crazy story, Jemma's head tossed back in laughter, Lincoln turning to look around his cousin at the storyteller, laughing as well. It seemed so beautiful and peaceful, the sun beginning to set over the city in front of them, not many people around to hear them talk. Fitz didn't tell many stories, but when he did, they were always good, and usually at the expense of either Jemma or Skye.

He put it back down gently and glanced at the rest of the table, finding nothing but movie ticket stubs and other small pieces of paper. He turned to go to the closet, when his foot knocked against something. He got onto his knees and looked under her bed. There, tucked away under the mattress and partially hidden by a rug sat an old shoebox. He pulled it out carefully, but quickly, and almost threw it on the bed.

His eager hands reached to open the box, scared and excited at the same time. Just as he was about lift the lid, he heard movement outside. He ran to the window in the living room and looked out. Down below, there was what looked like a SWAT team running up the sidewalk and moving towards the building.

" _Shit._ " He cursed.  _How the hell did S.H.I.E.L.D. find me so fast?_

He turned away from the window and walked quickly into the living room, grabbing his jacket as he went, locking the door and grabbing his keys from the bowl. He ran back into the bedroom to grab the box when a harsh knock came at the front door.

"Anybody home?" someone called and Lincoln closed the bedroom door as quietly as he could, and then remembered there was another door into this room. He grabbed the box and ran around the dresser to quickly shut it.

He closed his eyes and rested his head against it. When he noticed that it felt a bit strange underneath his forehead, he looked up, and had to contain the gasp. There, plastered to the mirror on the back of the door and spreading across to the wall next to it, was hundreds of pieces of paper, and pieces of different colored yarn, leading to the center of the full-length mirror, where she'd written something in crude handwriting. It took him a second to really register what she'd wrote, but he finally understood; it said

**_THE INHUMANS INITIATIVE_ **

He quickly pulled out his phone and began to take pictures of everything, as the banging on the door got louder and louder. Suddenly, something caught his eye; scrawled in her messy handwriting on what looked to be a napkin was a list of names.

-  _Cattleya  
_ -  _Skylark  
_ -  _White Spark (?)  
_ -  _Queen of Hearts  
_ -  _Copycat  
_ -  _Sparkplug  
_ -  _Lash *  
_ -  _The Synergist_

Two of the names were circled messily;  _Queen of Hearts_  and  _The Synergist,_  and a shiver darted down his spine. He reached out and ran his fingers lightly over the name  _Sparkplug_. For some odd reason, tears began to well up behind his eyes, wondering how long she'd known these codenames and if she'd known that one of them had best her best friend.

Suddenly, the banging stopped. Lincoln opened the door a crack and looking out cautiously. The living room was quiet, and the only thing he could hear was his own heartbeat, loud in his ear. Then, out of the blue, a man appeared in the center of the apartment's main room, surrounded with what looked like blue electricity. He stood, and straightened his trench coat, walking to calmly unlock the front door.

" _No,_ " Lincoln breathed, "what the hell is  _Gordon_  doing here?"

He turned away from the door and looked to the window, where the fire escape was. He looked back at the mirror, and began to pull things off of it. Small papers, index cards, documents, and napkins. He did it quickly and messily, lots of pieces stuck together as he stuffed them into the shoebox. Once he was done all that was left was the centerpiece of the research and pieces of yarn; he could just put it back together later. It took him seconds to do this, as Gordon struggled with the locks on the door, as Skye always did.

As the teleporter opened the door, Lincoln fumbled with the window. He curse under his breath as the men came stomping into the apartment and he unlocked the window, threw it up and jumped out onto the metal fire escape. He shut the window more quietly than he'd opened it and began to run down the fire escape just as they burst into her bedroom. He sprinted down the street, glancing over his shoulder every few seconds.

He finally reached a subway platform, where he almost toppled down the steps, fumbling with his cards as he entered. He sat down in an empty train car and took his first deep breath, closing his eyes and letting his head fall back. He ran his hand through his hair and sat up straight, glancing around once more to make sure he was alone. He then opened the box and began to look through and organize its contents, as he rode the train off in a direction he didn't know the destination of.


	5. Transatlanticism

People, and places, and things went past the windows, but the train rumbled on. Families and friends and lives he could've had were going past him, but he didn't notice. He could've been one of them; innocent and unaware, living a life so much simpler than the one he'd been given. He could've been the doctor he used to dream of being, someone who could help people, instead of they way he'd been helping the world.

The train came to the last stop, and he got off, walking to the other platform to ride it back the way he came. He got on the train, and found himself in an empty car. He sat down in the middle, equidistant to all the exits.

The shoebox had everything; papers, notes, receipts, ticket stubs, lists of codenames and so much other stuff like small ideas scrawled on pieces of paper like she'd thought of something randomly and had to get it down. He'd seen her build cases like this, specifically when she was working on the story that made her pseudonym famous. She'd called the case  _Black Lotus_  as a code word. It referred to the tattoos that were found on the bottoms of their feet, liking them to the gang, and the next piece of paper he found had it written in dark letters.

Just underneath that, at the bottom of the box, he found something he hadn't expected to see: an old iPod touch. It was the second model, and she'd had it for years, it's just that ever since she got an actual phone, he hasn't seen it around; he'd just assumed she'd thrown it out, but here it was. He hastily turned it on and scrambled to unlock it. He knew there'd be a passcode, and so he tried all the usual passwords.

Suffice to say, unlike Skye, he was  _not_  a good hacker. He finally tried her birthday of all things, knowing he had to be careful or the iPod would disable itself. He put his head in his hand and closed his eyes. He had about one more try to open the iPod before it got locked. Suddenly, he remembered what had happened in the car only hours prior;

_"_ _What's your password?" Lincoln yelled as Fitz told her the next directions,_

_"_ _Nine, eleven, eighty-seven!" He yelped as she swung around another corner._

He'd thought it funny at the time, but now it was a source of inspiration. Nine eleven eighty-seven is Jemma's birthday. Skye wouldn't make the password her  _own_  birthday, she'd make it someone she loves. He paused. There were three of them to choose from, and he had to pick carefully. She loved Fitz and Jemma, but he couldn't help but wonder if it was  _his_. Maybe it was logic [as he tried to tell himself] or maybe it was just his want for it to be his. So he typed it in slowly, and waited as the iPod loaded. He held his breath, and almost laughed as the iPod unlocked.

The app that was left open was the recorder. He scrolled down, and found what looked like at least one hundred recordings that had been created over the last year. He pulled out the headphones out of his phone, and plugged them in. He pressed the first recording and waited for the old tech to load.

" _Recording number one for the Inhumans Initiative case. My name is Skye—I mean Daisy, Daisy Johnson, and if you're hearing this then…"_  she paused and after a moment sighed,  _"Then I've met the same fate as my informant, the man who was investigating this before me._

 _Or you're going through my shit, which, I can tell you, is not appreciated at all. For your safety and the safety of the people you love, stop listening to this right now."_ He heard some papers being shuffled around, and he could imagine her sitting at that dining room table putting the first pieces of work together.  _"Alright, now that I've gotten that out of the way, onto my_ preliminary  _notes._

_In the past, many strange and unexplained phenomena have fascinated me, almost as much as how fast and who cleans it up afterwards. There's only one government agency I know of that could've pulled this off, and it's called S.H.I.E.L.D. Other than the name, I don't actually know too much about them. A couple weeks ago a friend of mine told me about something he'd found while doing work for the government; a conspiracy._

_Hundreds of dollars of government funds were put into finding people they called 'mutants.' My friend discovered an agent working for a group that labeled themselves 'the Inhumans.' Now, to my friend and his superiors, this man's description of his abilities and his group's hierarchy, seemed all too familiar, which is when they realized their 'mutants' and this man's 'Inhumans' were one in the same._

_Early on into the interrogation, my informant became aware that this man was under the impression that he also worked for S.H.I.E.L.D. The agents told him that this black ops branch of the agency created by Director Fury didn't exist, and, let's just say, he didn't take it very well. 147 hours of interrogation after this, and he stayed silent the whole time. Finally on the seventh day, he began to talk._

_He gave no specifics; no people, no names, no locations, but what he did talk about was the system."_  She began to get excited as she spoke,  _"This organization, whoever they are, crosses their t's and dots their i's like nobody's business. This man alone was part of at least a five dozen high-risk operations around the world, and he gave information on almost forty-seven of them. My friend could trace almost thirty of them back to unsolved S.H.I.E.L.D. cases and stings against the agency that had never been solved._

 _It's absolutely mind-blowing how one organization could pull off all of these stunts with only a limited amount of people at their disposal, and if they weren't doing all this terrible shit I might have admired them! I mean, of all the cases people have brought to me and asked for me to solve, this one has got to be the best yet!"_  she said quickly, and then corrected herself even faster,  _"I mean, the_ biggest  _article I've ever written, and I'm afraid."_

She sighed, _"Hours after his first session of testimony, that agent that my friend caught, was killed mysteriously. They have absolutely no idea how the killer got in; all they know is that when they found his body, it was like he'd aged seventy years._

 _His name was Joey."_ She said after a moment,  _"He didn't do anything and they killed him, all for telling the truth to try and set himself free."_

There was a pause, in which Lincoln waited for her to continue, but he found that it was the end of the recording. He began listening to the rest of them, the sound of her voice now a not-so-distant memory. Most of them were relatively short, mostly talking about the new pieces of paper she added to the wall, as if she were making copies in case she lost one. The fourth recording talked about the napkin with the codenames, where she spoke sarcastically about the silliness of each one.

 _"_ _Recording seven for the Inhumans Initiative article. My name is Daisy Johnson, and the date is September the eleventh. I haven't seen my friend from S.H.I.E.L.D. in_ months, _and I'm beginning to think they got to him. I need to write this article, and get the information out there to the public, maybe then I'll be safe from them._

 _It's only a matter of time before they get to me and the people I love. It's one of my best friends' birthday today, and I can't help but feel guilty, like I'm doing something wrong by pursuing this."_ In the background, he could hear the sound of her door bursting open. People bustled in, the sounds of plastic bags almost as loud as their voices as they playfully argued. He recognized his own voice and Jemma's laughter, along with Fitz's.  _"I'm so close, but I think I might eventually have to give up, but if it keeps them safe, it'll be worth it."_

There was a click, signaling the end of the recording. He moved slowly through the rest, finally coming to the last one.

 _"_ _Recording number twenty-three, this is Skye Johnson, and the date is November twenty-fifth."_ She spoke quickly, her voice strained and her breathing erratic, it sounded as though she were calming herself down as she spoke,  _"I can't keep studying this agency, I can't do it anymore. I did something of great stupidity and I can't let my world pay for it._

 _I tried to hack into the II's mainframe, but someone caught me, and it's only a matter of time before they trace the IP address back to me through the dozens of routers I ran it through. I'd give myself about twelve hours before they find me, but by then, I'll already be gone."_  She sounded far away, and he could hear her moving stuff around in her apartment,  _"I have twelve hours to say goodbye to my friends and tie up all the loose ends, and then I'm blowing this popsicle stand. I don't know how long I'll be gone,"_ She sighed, her voice soft and at a consistent volume, she'd probably picked up the iPod by then,  _"I'm putting everything I have in the shoebox under my bed, which I assume, if your listening to this, is where you found it. Don't try to find out the truth, or me, because all you'll get is a bunch of nightmares._

 _The hardest part is that I can't tell my family. When I go over to their house tonight, I'm going to eat dinner with them and try to memorize everything about them; all the things I love about each of them, everything I'll miss, so maybe I won't miss it so much."_  She sniffed slightly, and he realized she was crying,  _"God, Lincoln, I hope this isn't you listening, I know you'll never give it up, and if we were in opposite positions, I know I wouldn't either. I'd go to the ends of the Earth for you, and I know you—and Fitz and Jemma—are going to try and do everything to find me, but you can't, please, it'll be hard enough trying to keep just me away from these people, but keeping all of you away too would be too hard, and I can't risk loosing you._

 _I know what you're thinking; was I every going to call? Was I ever going to leave you the slightest clue of where I was?"_  She paused,  _"I don't know. I just know that I have to get away from these people, Lincoln,_

_I have to get away from my mother."_


	6. You Are Not in Control

She doesn’t know how long it’s been; sometimes it feels like months, but she can never really tell since they drug her and never let her see a clock. She hasn’t seen sunlight, felt fresh air, smelled the ocean wind in what feels like years, and all she knows now is that she has to get out.

_“Skye…” a voice said softly in her ear, a hand rubbed her shoulder a bit roughly, “Skye you gotta wake up.”_

_She groaned in response, tightening her grip on the pillow. “Lincoln…” she murmured, “just a few more… minutes…”_

_From above her she heard the gravely laugh she’d come to know so well. His voice was so warm, so comforting, so, kind. She could listen to him talk for hours and never cease to be warmed by it. “Come on, or I’ll leave without you,” he teased._

_“No you won’t,” she grumbled and he laughed again._

_“Fine, I won’t.” He paused, and then tried a new tactic, “You do know you have exams in and hour and a half, right?”_

_“Uhnrm,” she replied groggily._

_“I made coffee.” He said after a moment._

_“Urgh, **fine** ,” she sat up and rubbed her eyes, “but only because of the coffee.”_

_“That’a girl,” The voice said, but now it wasn’t the gentle voice of her best friend, she turned to see Jiaying standing above her. “Only a few more rounds before you’re broken,” she said, walking slowly around the foot of the bed to come face Skye, “And then,” she said menacingly, before her hands snapped around Skye’s neck, “I can **finally** put you out of your misery.”_

She screamed and sat up from the table, her shackled hands making quite a racket as she threw them wildly in the air. She sat there, gasping for breath, glancing up to find Jiaying standing in the corner across from her.

“You looked so… Peaceful.” she asked with her signature sickly-sweet tone of voice. “What were you dreaming about?”

“None of your goddamn business, that’s what.” Skye snapped.

“It’s alright,” Jiaying stepped away from the wall and began to pace around, “I’ve been thinking a lot about him too.”

“Who?” Skye asked.

“Lincoln.” Jiaying said simply.

“How do you—”

“—He works here,” Jiaying interrupted, “for me.”

Skye was too stunned to say anything; instead she sat with her mouth slightly open, staring at the older woman. “You see, Skye,” She stopped pacing and stood in front of the reporter, “all roads seem to lead back here,” she said slowly, “to _me._ ”

“That’s why I had my people do some digging on you,” She said, “you’ve known Lincoln for years now,” she began her pacing again, “ever since the two of you were young, mere children in a big wide world; nothing to worry about except playground bullies and the weather.”

“How poetic.” Skye glared.

“You were adopted by the Coulsons.” Jiaying continued, “You don’t like to advertise it but, when you were twenty-one you went to court and got your name changed to Skye Coulson.”

“Yeah, what of it?” Skye folded her arms.

“They abandoned you, why change your name?” Jiaying paused her movements, “Why try and keep them and their name?”

“Well their name meant a hell of a lot more than the name of the people who abandoned me originally so,” Skye said venomously.

“You wanted them to find you?” Jiaying said, and Skye could help but feel like there was a brokenness to her voice that shouldn’t have been there.

“I was done waiting for the parents that were never there for me,” Skye said, frowning slightly at Jiaying’s eyes, “and I know that they would never have left me unless they had to.”

“We wouldn’t have either, Daisy.” Jiaying said softly, looking down at her hands.

“What?” Skye barely whispered.

“I didn’t know it was you at first,” Jiaying said, walking around the table to kneel next to Skye’s chair, “but then I started to put the pieces together,” she raised her hand slowly and cupped Skye’s cheek, “and I knew it was you.”

Suddenly, the man named Gordon burst through the door, carrying a crate, two heavily armed guards and a scientist following him. “Wha— what’s going on?” Skye began to struggle as he placed the crate down on the table.

“You are my daughter, and it’s your birthright,” Jiaying began to stroke Skye’s cheek, trying in vain to sooth her daughter, “I will give you something that the Coulsons could _never_ have given you,” she said, and although she was trying to sound kind, her words were darker that the blackest pits of hell.

“What are you going to do to me?” Skye spoke louder, her voice rising out of fear.

“I’m giving you the gift you were destined to have,” Jiaying said as the scientist began to work.

“I don’t want your gift,” Skye almost screamed, throwing Jiaying’s hand from her face. She leaned close to her birth mother, “I don’t want _anything_ more from you.” She spat.

“But you will,” Jiaying stood, her face now set in stone, “they always do.”

“ _What are you doing!_ ” Skye screamed as the man in the lab coat pulled out a small bottle and filled a syringe.

“It’s a tradition handed down through generation of people, just like you and I,” Jiaying said,

“We are _nothing_ alike!” Skye growled,

“Then how about you and Lincoln?” Jiaying said, “I gave him the gift he now cherishes; the curious man inside of him couldn’t resist the idea.”

The confusion that washed over Skye momentarily calmed her as Jiaying talked about Lincoln, “He jumped at the first chance of being able to study our kind, and when he found out he could become just like us,” Jiaying smiled, “he didn’t wait to take a breath before he agreed.”

Skye’s eyes burned slightly as she kept in the tears caused by this emotional overload; _what is happening?_ “What are you?” she asked slowly.

“I’m an inhuman,” Jiaying said, “and so are you.”

* * *

The revolving door glistened under the city lights as he walked into the lobby slowly. His feet stepped easily across the polished marble. He made a beeline straight to the elevator and he stood with his hands folded in front of him as he waited for the lift to open in front of him.

He stepped in, surprised to find it empty. He looked down at his feet, counting the electronic beeps as he passed sublevel after sublevel.

He looked up at the doors opened, and walked slowly and calmly out into the white room. He stood perfectly still as he was scanned, just like he’d done for the past six years. The large door opened automatically, and he strode into his soon to be former workplace.

He must really look like shit because people everywhere were staring at him open-mouthed and moving in slow motion. He was walking to Jiaying’s office when Gordon stepped in front of him.

“Lincoln, what are you doing back here?” He asked calmly.

“I’m here to officially resign,” Lincoln said firmly, “where’s Jiaying?”

“She’s,” Gordon paused slightly, “indisposed, at the moment, if you could just wait in her office, I’m sure she’ll—”

“— _No._ ” Lincoln said firmly, “I’d like to see her _now_.”

“I’m afraid I can’t take you to see her—” Gordon began,

“—Then I guess I’ll just have to go find her myself.” Lincoln snapped, moving away from the teleporter.

Gordon grabbed his arm, holding him still. “You’re going to have to _wait_.” He said through gritted teeth.

“Gordon if you don’t let go of me right now, so _help me god_ , I will kill you.” Lincoln replied, and the whole office went quiet. “ _Where. Is. She?_ ”

“Jiaying will be with you shortly,” Gordon replied, the tension reaching a critical point, “ _wait. In. her office._ ”

“I’m not your soldier anymore, Gordon.” Lincoln said.

“Is that so?” Gordon challenged, and Lincoln smirked.

“Yeah, it is, old man.” And with that he sent electrical shockwaves down his skin, electrocuting Gordon where his hand rested on the younger man’s arm.

Gordon stepped back, shaking and unable to properly move. Lincoln, fueled by a hate fire that any forest fire would envy, punched him so hard in the face that he hit a post three feet back.

He turned to the on looking crowd, _“WHERE, IS SHE?_ ” He bellowed, his voice echoing around the room.

He ran down the stairs, a single phrase stuck in his head; _the conversation room, the conversation room, the conversation room,_ over and over again. He sprinted down the halls and turned a corner, finding the door he was looking for. He burst into the room,

“Skye—” he began, finding the room empty. “What—?”

He stepped out of the room and began to put pieces together. _I have to get away from my mother_ , she’d said, and that’s when he came to the distinct realization that she was an inhuman.

Jiaying was going to put her through terrigenesis.

They had a special room for that, and since he’d overseen dozens of people going through the mist, he knew where the room was for that. He ran down the halls, and came to the room.

He skidded to a half in front of the door, almost falling as he did. He grabbed the handle, and pulled. He yanked and screamed and put his back into it, but to no avail. It was locked tightly shut. He stumbled to the observation window in the wall, and looked in to the room.

There she was, screaming and thrashing around. Her hands were shackled behind her, and she was crying and kicking and trying to get free.

“ _Skye!_ ” He screamed, slamming his fist against the window. “ _SKYE!_ ”

But she couldn’t hear him.

The room began to fill with smoke. He screamed her name as loud as he could, slamming on the glass so hard his fist began to bruise. Soon she stopped thrashing; she stopped fighting. She let her feet slip out from under her and she sat on the ground. She closed her eyes and tilted her head to the ceiling. She just sobbed, and he began to as well.

“ _Skye—_ ” his voice cracked. 

He couldn’t see her anymore. She was gone, disappeared into the mist, roaring around her like the sea, and there was nothing he could do.


	7. Follow You

The doors automatically locked during terrigenesis, and there was nothing he could've done; they were built to withstand anything. Jiaying would've never wanted anything interrupting the creation of another soldier. That was when he knew he had to be the first one into that room.

He ran to the door to the next room. Luckily, this one was an electronic lock, and he could fry it. He did so as quietly as he could, and just when he finished, he heard door to the terrigenesis chamber unlock.

He sprinted away from the observation room door to the terrigenesis room. Suddenly the whole world began to shake. He grabbed the wall to steady himself and then stumbled into the cavernous room holding his best friend. He ran across the space, waving the mist out his face.

" _Skye!_ " He yelled over the sound.

He fell to the ground next to her and brushed the hair off her forehead, " _Skye, I'm here! I'm here!_ " he yelled, " _It's going to be okay!_ " he said, leaning close to her, " _I promise!_ "

The shaking began to subside. He pulled her body forward, so her head rested loosely on his shoulder. He zapped the chain keeping her shackles attached to the wall.

"Skye," he breathed, cupping her cheeks, "Skye, wake up."

"Lincoln?" She murmured groggily.

"—Yeah, Skye, it's me," he said, as she faded back into the unconscious.

He scooped her up and turned to the door. "Not so fast, Sparkplug." Gordon said menacingly from the doorway.

"Took you long enough, Gordo." Lincoln said, trying to sound tough but swallowing hard after he spoke.

"I can't let you leave," he said, holding out a hand in warning, "she's very important, and you've defected."

"Better late than never." He said, adjusting his grip on Skye's waist.

"Come on, Lincoln," Gordon stepped forward, "I know you don't want anyone to get hurt here, so let me help you."

Lincoln looked down at Skye and then back up at the teleporter. "Please, Lincoln," he tried to reason, taking a bigger step forward.

Lincoln let him get closer. The alarm sounded all around them and he jumped. "Hey, hey," Gordon raised his hands again, "It's fine, it'll all be okay, Lincoln, just give me the girl."

Lincoln took a deep breath and then dropped her legs gently, but kept her arm around his neck. Gordon took her other arm and put it around his neck. Lincoln watched him for a moment. Gordon started to move towards the door. Lincoln let one of his hands drop from Skye's waist.

He yanked the gun out of the back of his jeans and jammed it against Gordon's temple. "You're going to teleport us out of here right now, to the street level, where we're going to get into a cab and drive away, do you understand?" He growled.

"Lincoln—" Gordon raised his hands.

"— _Do you understand?!_ " Lincoln yelled and Skye's head rolled over onto his shoulder.

"You won't shoot me, Lincoln—"

He pressed the gun further into Gordon's skull, "Don't _test me_ , Gordon." Lincoln said.

"Let's just all try and be reasonable here—"

Lincoln immediately discharged the weapon, inches from Gordon's left foot.

"Okay!" he said throwing his hands in the air, "okay, I'll do it."

"Alright, go." Lincoln said, preparing himself for the jump.

"Lincoln?" Skye murmured, and he turned to look at her, his eyes filled with worry and apprehension.

"Hey, Skye," Gordon turned, watching them in his own way, "I'm here," he whispered, "it's all going to be okay," he said, glancing up at Gordon, "I promise."

Gordon put an arm on either of them and surrounded them in blue light. When the light subsided, they stood in an alley just next to the building, and no one noticed them appear out of thin air.

Lincoln pulled her arm off of Gordon's shoulder and kept the gun trained on the teleporter as he moved slowly backwards.

Skye attempted to open her eyes then, murmuring his name into his shoulder. He was distracted; his eyes falling to her hair, checking to see if she was okay.

Gordon took this change and disappeared. Lincoln froze and turned behind him, only to find Gordon standing there waiting for him. He disarmed Lincoln, turning the gun onto its previous owner. Lincoln pushed Skye away from his body and used both hands to knock the gun away from Gordon. It flew to the side of the alley and the two men began to fist fight.

Gordon threw a punch and Lincoln used his forearm to block it. They paused, Lincoln's eyes narrowing under the teleporter's force. Gordon disappeared again. Lincoln got low, and when Gordon reappeared, he was ready. He jumped up, punching the older man in the chin. Gordon stumbled backwards and Lincoln went after him relentlessly. Gordon blocked the next punch but the young inhuman caught him in the stomach.

Gordon doubled over in pain. Lincoln took his elbow and slammed it into base of the teleporter's neck. Gordon fell to the cement and Lincoln got down on his knees. He straddled the older man and began to punch him over and over again. Everything else in the background was foggy.

The tunnel vision consumed him, adrenaline coursing through his veins like fire. He was in too deep and the only thing that could break him from the hypnotic high was—

"— _Lincoln!_ " He suddenly heard through the clouds.

His head jerked up to see a fully awake Skye. Her lips were parted, and her eyes were wide. She was looking at him in fear. She was pressed against the alley wall, watching without context and a horrified look on her face.

" _What are you doing?_ " She gasped, palms pressing into the pavement on either side of her body.

Gordon disappeared and Lincoln lost his balance. He fell into the pavement. As he got up on all fours, he began to try and speak,

"He'll be back," he said, out of breath,

"Who? Who will be back? Who was that?" She asked, rapid-fire, on the verge of hysteria.

"I'll explain all of that later," he said, bringing himself to his feet, trying to slow his heart rate, "come on it'll all be okay, I promise—"

Gordon came back, another man holding onto him. Lincoln turned and Gordon socked him right in the jaw, sending him back to the ground.

The teleporter began to kick Lincoln. Over and over again his foot slammed into Lincoln's side, sending him rolling all around the alley floor. Their new adversary began to help. All Lincoln could do was cover his face and try to hold on.

" _Stop!_ " Skye yelled, " _STOP!_ "

The ground began to shake again. The men lost their balance, stumbling backwards. Lincoln lurched to his feet, shaping up both the men once more as the ground continued to rumble. The henchman stood in a puddle; Gordon had one foot in the same one. They stopped stumbling around, trying to regain their balance. Lincoln smirked and electricity blossomed from his palm, the current running through the puddle and sending them to the floor.

He didn't take time to admire his work. He fell and skinned his knees. They ground was still shaking, and he almost crawled over to Skye.

Her fingers were tangled tightly in the roots of her hair. The heels of her hands were pressing into her eyelids. Her knees were pulled close to her and she bit back the scream.

" _Skye!_ " He called, grabbing her wrists and gently pulling them away from her face. " _Skye look at me!_ "

She opened her eyes and tears fell down her cheeks. She looked up at him, sobbing uncontrollably. "Just breathe," he said softly, "it's okay, it's okay, just breathe—"

" _What is happening?!_ " She yelled through the tears and the earthquake.

He brushed the hair off her forehead and continued to speak soothingly, "Come on, Skye, it's all going to be okay," he said softly, pulling her head to press against his, "just _breathe_."

Slowly, the shaking began to subside. He took her hand and pulled her to her feet. "Come on,"

"Where are we going?" She called as he bent down and picked purge gun Gordon had knocked out of his hand.

"We have to find somewhere safe," He said, coming back and offered her a hand, together they began to run down the alleyway, looking for a cab to flag down, "and then we'll figure out what to do from there, okay?" He turned to look at her and she nodded silently.

"Oh shit," he said, looking down the street.

The pavement was cracked down the middle, like lighting in the asphalt.

"What is that?" She breathed, stepping closer to Lincoln and adjusting her grip on his hand.

"I have no clue," he said, looking upon the scene in awe.

Sirens echoed in the distance, people ran about them, screaming and shouting, but it was like everything was muffled.

Suddenly, a gargoyle fell from the top of a building. Skye wrapped her other hand around his upper arm. They watched, mouths open wide, as it fell in slow-motion. It shattered once it hit the ground, pieces flying everywhere. Windows shattered and people screamed. A car swerved into another. It was absolute chaos.

He squeezed her hand tighter. "Come on Skye, we gotta go—"

"—No, we gotta help, there are people here who are hurt—!" Skye said, looking up at him with the demanding look he knew so well.

"—If _we_ stay here _we'll_ be hurt; most likely killed!" He yelled, ignoring her morality.

"By _who_?" She yelled, pulling her hand out of his. "Lincoln, who the hell is chasing us, who was that guy, who—"

"— _Skye!_ " Lincoln yelled over her, "That's not important right now! We need to go!"

He grabbed her hand and tried to pull her along. Like a small child leaving a carnival she dug her heels into the ground and yanked his arm. She managed to throw her weight so he stumbled back.

"Do _not_ treat me like a child, Lincoln, explain to me _right now_ what's going on!" She said and he sighed exasperatedly,

"Skye we don't have _time_ —" he said, trying to reasons even though he knew it was pointless.

"— _Make_ time then!" She snapped, "I don't know what just happened and I _cannot_ just follow you blindly! Don't you know that's always when something _bad_ happens?!" She said, almost hysterical.

He sighed, "Skye," he cupped her cheeks to make her focus, "Skye, _look_ at me," he said and she looked up at him, beautiful doe eyes filled with confusion, "Do you think I'm trying to hurt you?"

" _What?_ " She said incredulously, "God no— _never!_ "

"Then why won't you listen to me?" Lincoln said, and continued when she couldn't formulate and answer, "Let me help, let me make you feel safer, what can I do, what do you need?"

"I—" she began to look around frantically again,

"I know you're scared Skye—"

"—You have _no_ idea." She said venomously.

There was a pause.

"Do you trust me?" He asked, voice just above a murmur.

"Lincoln, that's not fair—" she protested weakly.

"—Do you?" He asked, eyes flickering back and forth between hers.

She took a breath, "Yeah," she nodded slightly, "I do, I trust you."

"Then," he said, taking her hand gently, "don't worry yet," he looked at her intensely, "it's all going to be okay, I'll just get us somewhere safe then you can be angry at me, okay?"

She bit the inside of her cheek, " _Fine_."

"Come on," he pulled her along behind him as he ran down the street.

He held onto her hand tighter than he'd ever held onto anything before. They swerved around people, ducking under their flailing arms and pitiful screams.

He led her down a random set of steps through a park. He was going so fast, he lost track of his feet and slipped down the last couple steps.

"Lincoln!" she yelped, yanking him to his feet.

"I'm good," he said, jumping up and began pushing through the crowd once again. "Come on, Skye!"

The ran onto a less busy street, and began to slow down, he knew she'd need to catch her breath a bit. She bent over, wheezing.

"Skye?" He bent down next to her and put a hand on her shoulder, "Skye, it's alright it'll pass,"

She simply nodded, putting her arm on his shoulder to support herself. "We gotta move, okay?" He said softly and she nodded, "Come on," he said gently helping her stand straight.

"Where are we going?" She asked breathlessly.

"Don't know yet," he said, looking around, the street oddly silent about them, "we gotta keep moving though..."

She nodded, "Okay fine," she said, having regained some ability to breathe.

"Ready?" He said after a moment and she nodded again.

He held out his hand, and she glanced up at him. They paused for a moment, just staring at each other. She took it with determination in her eyes. He smirked and she took a deep breath. Together they began to run.


	8. Bite

He opened the door and hurried her inside. She stood behind him as he locked the door. "Lincoln," she began.

"I think we'll be safe here for now," he said, peering through the peephole.

" _Lincoln_ ," she said more forcefully, crossing her arms.

"It'll take them some time to regroup, but just in case we should stay inside and off our devices—"

" _Lincoln!_ " she yelled, making him jump.

"What?" he asked, moving closer to her.

She stepped back.

"Skye?" He asked softly, voice cracking with betrayal. "Skye, what's wrong—it's _me_ —it's just me,"

He moved closer to her again and she moved part way around the bed to keep a distance from him.

"You knew him," She said, rubbing one hand up her opposite arm. He looked down at the ground, "you knew that guy, the one without any eyes."

"Yeah," he nodded weakly, looking up at her, "he was my friend."

" _Was?_ " She said, voice rising as she spoke, "That other woman, Jiaying," she began and Lincoln put his head in his hand, "she said you _worked_ for her, that you _wanted_ to study people like her."

"Skye—" but she was too mad to listen.

"—You're a _doctor_ , Lincoln, not a scientist—!"

"—No, Skye, I'm not a goddamn doctor I'm an Inhuman." He snapped, "But I guess you already knew that didn't you?" He pulled a crumpled napkin out of his pocket and threw it [as hard as one possibly can] on the bed.

She moved closer, lips parted slightly, eyes wide. She bent down and picked it up, bringing it closer to her face, "Tell me, Skye," he said, leaning down so he was closer to her, really fuming now, "what'd you think would happen, huh? You'd just get to write your story without being bothered by the people you were trying to expose?"

"Where did you get this?" she asked, looking up at him "Were you going through my stuff?!"

"No! I got it from your apartment, when I was _looking for you!_ " he snapped, "I didn't know where you went, I didn't know where you were—I _had to find you_." he said, "Why don't you trust me anymore? Because of what some crazy woman said to you?"

"Yes!" Skye snapped, "Because some 'crazy woman' just told me that she was _my mother_ and that you _worked_ for her and you just said you were—" she stopped and looked at him. Her eyes widened even further, and she stepped back. "—you were a,"

He looked at her and watched all her emotions play across her face like an old movie on a projector screen. He knew this was going to come, he knew that she'd look at him like he was a monster, like he was an abomination. He wasn't worthy of her love anymore, now that she knew the truth. She was going to leave—she was going to hate him, he knew it.

"Have you been _spying_ on me?" she asked incredulously, and he furrowed his eyebrows.

" _What?!_ " he had totally not expected that to be the first thing out of her mouth.

" _Have you been spying on me?!_ " she yelled, and he groaned, shaking his head and turning around in a slow circle, hands on his head out of frustration of the purest kind. "I mean, it only makes sense—"

"—In _what universe_ does that even _remotely_ make sense Skye?" He bellowed.

She uncrossed her arms and ran a hand over her hair and beginning to pace back and forther, "—I mean I'd been trying to expose the very agency you;d been working for—a _government conspiracy_ —and then they just magically knew where to find me just when I was getting close—"

"—Skye, this—this is _insane_ —!" Lincoln yelled, absolutely flabbergasted at her response.

"—Is it?" She asked, stopping her movements, "any time I'd get even _close_ to some real answers—god forbid a witness—something would stop me or plug the source."

" _What?!_ "

"Or _perhaps_ ," she yelled over him, "it was a _someone_."

"Skye!" he said, "I would _never_ —"

"—Never what?" she asked quickly, "Never lie to you? Never keep things hidden? Never _deceive_ you?"

He swallowed, "Skye, I was just trying to protect you—"

"—Oh yeah right _."_ she scoffed, rubbing her forehead.

"Skye _please_ ," he begged, stepping closer, and trying to touch her arm gently, maybe to bring her back, "I was only doing what I thought was right—what I thought would keep you safe," he pleaded and she avoided his eyes, "I'd seen what they'd done to people who knew about the Initiative—they _killed_ people to keep our secret safe— and I couldn't bare the thought of losing you—or Jemma or Fitz—"

"—And you _stayed_?" She cut him off and his eyes brow twitched in confusion, "Even thought you knew that they'd done those things?"

"Skye I couldn't—"

"—You could've _told me!_ " she yelled suddenly, making him lean back, "I've been here! I've been right here, all along! You were my _best friend!_ I told you _everything!_ " she was on the verge of tears, yelling at the top of her lungs, "Everything, big or small—I told you everything. Every breakup, every bad story, every crack I tripped over, _everything!_ "

He wanted to but he couldn't look away. He deserved this, he deserved all of it. He swallowed back tears, the breath burning down his throat.

"Fifteen years and now I know," She said, eyes crystalline and lips set in a straight line, "I don't know you at all."

He had nothing to say. He had no explanation—no way to possibly tell her how much it tore him up. No way to tell her how with a few words, she could tear him to shreds.

She shook her head, "You know what? I'm done." She brushed past him,

"No, Skye you can't—" he said, walking after her.

She stopped and faced him, "— _Watch_ me." she growled.

She began to unlock the door and he moved in between her and the faux wood paneling. "Skye, please stop, they're _still after you_ —"

He put his hands on her shoulders to stop her. "—Don't _touch_ me!" She lifted her arms up in between his and knocked them off of her.

"—Skye _please_ , you _have_ to listen to me!" he said, grabbing her shoulders again, a bit more forcefully this time.

"— _GET OFF OF ME!_ " She bellowed, trying to knock his hands off again but instead she lost her balance in the commotion.

She stumbled against him and he felt his insides begin to churn. Something inside him felt like it was pulsing out of control. His heart skipped beats. His breathing hitched. He started to feel excruciating pain in his muscles. His bones felt like they were going to shatter.

" _Ah_ — _!_ " he shoved her off of him.

He fell back against the hotel room door and sliding to the floor. She fell to the ground, baging her head against a wall.

" _What the hell?!"_ She held the back of her skull with one hand and put her forehead in the other. He pressed a palm against his chest and gasped for air.

She looked up at him confusedly, and he didn't meet her gaze. Her eyes widened, realizing just how out of breath he was.

"Lincoln?" she asked breathlessly, "Lincoln don't play—" she moved towards him, hands outstretched to help.

"— _No!_ " he gasped, putting a hand out to ward her off, still trying to regulate his breathing. She flinched backwards, the hurt evident in her eyes. "Please," he managed to get out, "please don't—don't touch me," he said, swallowing hard.

"Lincoln, what's wrong?" She said and he shook his head, still unable to breathe evenly.

He stood and stumbled to the bathroom. "Lincoln—?" she asked, following him as he pulled his shirt over his head. "—Oh my god," she covered her mouth with her hand.

His whole body was covered in bruises. They blossomed out from in between his ribs like sick, purple pansies, yellowing around the edges. He looked at himself in the mirror, mouth parted slightly, brows furrowed in pain. He moved his arm to lightly trail his fingers over a bruise on his left hip. He hissed in pain and shook his head, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth and looking up at the ceiling.

Suddenly, an idea dawned over her. "Did—" she swallowed, "Did _I_ do that?"

He looked at her and she stared back. "Skye," he began. He couldn't formulate the words.

"Oh my—" she choked, looking down, and lifted her hands slowly, palms up, to stare at them in terror. " _What the hell did she do to me?_

"Skye, it's _okay_ —" he began, moving closer to her.

"—No, _no_ —" she stepped back and turned away from him, running into the other room. "—it's not ' _okay_ '!" she bellowed, putting head in her hands.

"Skye, please just—" he stopped her and gently held her forearms so she'd look at him, "—just listen to me," he said, and she shook her head,

"I can't— _I can't_ —"

"—Can't what?" he asked over her cries,

"I can't be _here!_ " She yelled, "I'm gonna—I _hurt_ you!"

"You can't hurt me any more than I can hurt you," he said.

Realization dawned over her, "That guy, in the apartment," she said, pointing a finger up at him, "that wasn't—I didn't imagine that?"

"No," he said softly, "no you didn't."

"Oh my god," she breathed.

"Here," he gently pulled her by the elbows and sat her down on the edge of the bed. He squatted down in front of her, and held her hands in her lap.

"Okay, think about it like this:" he said, bringing them into a territory he was comfortable with, "imagine tens of _thousands_ of years of evolution happening simultaneously inside one organism."

"Okay," she said slowly, eyeing him suspiciously.

"That's what just happened to you." he said.

She froze and just stared at him.

"You're insane."

"Oh my god," he muttered, putting his head on her knees.

"You've absolutely lost it," she said, staring blankly at the wall behind him, "if you even had it in the first place—"

"—I'm not crazy!" he said sitting up, "I'm being serious," he said, trying his damndest to convince her, "there's a dormant gene in a small amount of the population that can be, uh, _activated_ , by a certain compound—called terrigen—causing them to have certain abilities— _gifts_."

She looked at him like he was crazy and suddenly something inside him felt different. He felt relieved.

"Skye," he breathed her name like a final desperate plea, "you don't know how _much_ I wanted to tell you—all of you." He looked down at their hands and adjusted his grip, "Everything in my life turned into a lie, and for what? To study something?"

He swallowed, "You guys were the best part of my life and everyday," he shook his head and looked up at her, "everyday I'd come home and lie to you."

She stayed silent and just looked down at him. He could've sworn he saw her face soften a little. "I never spied on you, I never told them anything about you," He began to rub small circles on her hand with his thumb, "but you're right; I was a coward."

"Lincoln—" she began, but he stopped her,

"—No, I was." He looked down at their hands again, "I thought you would hate me." He looked up at her sorry face, "So I never told you.

I didn't realize the hold they had on me—the hold _Jiaying_ had on me—until it was too late." He paused slightly, "And even then, I wanted so badly to believe what we were doing was right that I let myself believe what she said.

I wanted to be," he looked at the ceiling, looking for the word above him, " _exceptional_." he said, "I wanted to be more than what I was—a part of something bigger—a higher destiny." He looked back at her, "And I was an addict; every time I had a question, there she was, with the perfect answer to keep me hooked, until I was finally ready to go through terrigenesis.

And it was glorious.

When I came out of the mist, I felt like I was on fire," he said, his eyes far away like he was re-living some sick high, "like every fiber of my being was fighting with each other." he looked at her, "That was the first time I really saw myself.

They say that each gift is individual to each person, and mine was so true to me that I began to hate it." He stood and sat down on the other bed, still facing her and holding her hands gently in his. He stared blankly at the ground now. "It was pure destruction, pure _chaos._ "

He looked up at her, "I'd been deceived," he said softly, "I didn't _want_ this, I didn't _like_ it, and no matter how many times Jiaying said I was, I wasn't _beautiful_ ," he said, "I was a _monster_.

All those weeks I spent recuperating, preparing, training, I'd make secret calls to you and Jemma and Fitz, just so I could hear you guys talk about your work days, or the traffic on the freeway, or the mistakes the barista made on your coffee order." He said, making both of them smile sadly, "And then they finally told me I could go out on missions.

I went out and for the first time in weeks, I felt—" she choked slightly, "—I felt good about myself." He looked back down at the ground, "I felt _useful_.

I was out, kicking ass with these, _amazing_ new powers," he smiled, "fighting for queen and country.

I was helping my kind, and helping the government to keep people safe from HYDRA and AIM and it felt good." He said, "I didn't feel like my ability was a curse, I didn't feel empty, I suddenly felt whole.

And when I came home every night, and hugged Jemma and called you on the phone," he smiled at the bittersweet memory, "I didn't feel like it was wrong to lie.

And then when they took you the other night," he said slowly, "and there was nothing I could do except listen to you scream my name over and over," he looked down at the ground, "nothing mattered but finding you, bringing you home.

And now I've even ruined that for you."

"Us." She said after a moment, "We ruined our home together."

Skye bit her lip. She looked at him with an expression he couldn't read. She was processing. He looked down at the ground and a tear hit the cheap, navy blue carpet.

"God, I'm so sorry I lied, Skye." He pulled a hand away from her and wiped his eye, another tear falling from the other.

"It's okay." she said, "I think—" she paused, "—I think I understand."

He looked up at her, his eyes filled with so much hope it was unbearable.

"But I don't," she swallowed, "I don't know how to trust you."

"What—why?" he asked, scooting closer to her.

"You don't know what they've done, Lincoln," she said, "and I don't know what you've done."


	9. Back on the Chain Gang

She appeared around a corner, hood pulled over her head, eyes moving around the space cautiously. She blew her bubblegum into a big green bubble and popped it mercilessly with her teeth. A man carrying a briefcase bustled past her. She watched him out of the corner of her eye, daring him to cross her. She adjusted one of the earbuds that stuck out of her ears, anxious and waiting for a call.

 

Her phone vibrated in her pocket. She pulled it out and answered it without looking at the screen. “You done being paranoid yet?”

 

He sighed, “Skye, we have to be careful.”

 

She sucked her bottom lip into her mouth. She rolled her eyes, knowing he was right, “Fine.”

 

He walked into the center of Union Station, and looked around. He pulled the brim of his baseball cap further down over his face.

 

“Can you see me?” he asked.

 

She popped the bubble she’d just blown, “Yeah, I got your six,” she said softly, eyeing him warily from above, “you’re clear.”

 

He nodded and began to move towards the lockers, walking under the balcony she stood on. She looked around her and then turned, following him from above.

 

“Where did you hide it?” she asked, “I hope you didn’t forget.”

 

He laughed, “No, I remember where I put it.” he jogged down a set of steps and she stopped to watch him above. “Hard to forget when it’s something this important.”

 

She nodded, “Yeah that’s for sure.”

 

She pulled out her phone as he went out of her eyesight. She’d hacked into the security feeds before they left the hotel.

 

“How’re my eyes in the sky?” He said good-naturedly.

 

“Haha.” she said sarcastically, “The sky puns never get old.”

 

He laughed, walking quickly and discreetly looking back at where he came from.

 

“But for real,” she continued, “you’re fine, there’s still no one tailing you.”

 

He walked over to the lockers and looked over his shoulder once again.

 

“Lincoln, don’t do that,” she said, “it makes you look really sus.”

 

“Sus?” he frowned, fumbling a key out of his pocket.

 

“Yeah, sus.” She said, “It’s short for suspicious—you’ve seriously never heard that before?”

 

“Nope,” he frowned, opening one of the lockers.

 

“What, they didn’t teach you the new lingo at your super-secret government conspiracy job where they trained you in espionage and combat?” She asked venomously.

 

He opened the locker, “I deserved that.” he sighed, reaching inside.

 

“Yeah, no. You deserve much,  _ much _ worse,” she said, biting the inside of her cheek, “you’re lucky that my life is on the line, otherwise we’d be having a long, drawn-out,  _ proper _ , argument about this—and you’d feel it.”

 

“Like in seventh grade?” he asked, pulling out the package and stuffing it in the duffel bag he’d been carrying.

 

“No, not like  _ in seventh grade _ ,” she said, “in seventh grade I tried my damndest to not talk to you for two days and failed.  _ Miserably _ .”

 

He laughed and began to walk back, “Yeah, but you had a valid reason to be mad then too.”

 

“ _ Ugh! _ ” she growled into the microphone, “Why do you have to be so good about this?!”

 

“What do you mean?” he frowned incredulously, walking up the steps he’d come down before.

 

“Why can’t you just—I don’t know— _ defend _ yourself?!” she said exasperatedly.

 

“Because you’re right,” he said simply, “I can’t deny it.”

 

“You could just try!” she said and he furrowed his eyebrows,

 

“Do you really want me to fight you about this?” he asked, stopping and pressing the blutooth further into his ear.

 

“Yes— _ I don’t know! _ ” she said, “I’m just having a—oh my god, Lincoln,” she said urgently.

 

“What—what is it?” he asked with the same fear.

 

“Two guys and a redhead, you’re 3 o’clock,” she said, “they’re walking right towards you—”

 

“ _ —Lincoln! _ ” A familiar voice called.

 

He closed his eyes out of exasperation. He turned slowly around, facing the woman who’d addressed him. “Hi Alicia.”

 

She stopped about ten feet away from him, “You’ve been a busy little bee.”

 

He looked at her uncertainly. Skye’s heart beat faster and faster by the second.

 

“Lincoln…” she whispered warningly in his ear.

 

“Who’re you talking to?” Alicia asked, tilting her head slightly.

 

“Telemarketers,” Lincoln answered, voice montone, “one of them called me randomly, I’m not talking to them anymore.”

 

“ _ What _ are you doing?” she hissed, “Let them know I’m here—that you have backup!”

 

Alicia smiled but moved on to a new line of questions. She nodded her head to the duffel bag he clutched in his left hand, “What’cha got there, partner?”

 

“She’s your  _ partner _ ?” Skye said incredulously.

 

“Nothing that concerns you.” He said calmly.

 

“Well, actually, I think it does.” She took a bold step forward, “I’ve been tasked with bringing you in,” she rubbed her hands slowly in front of her, “Jiaying said any means necessary.”

 

“That  _ psycho _ !” Skye cursed, “Lincoln, they’re clearing the building, you need to get out of there.”

 

“I see you’re clearing the building,” he said, “you really want to do that? It’s still pretty public.”

 

“How so?” Alicia said, “There’s no one here to see, our techs are already wiping the video from this evening—”

 

“—Never underestimate the determination of an angry commuter,” Lincoln said, “they’re going to ask questions, and those questions will lead to more publicity—I _sincerely_ _doubt_ Jiaying will want that.”

 

Alicia smirked, “Jiaying doesn’t care anymore” she said darkly, “all she wants is your head,” she took another step closer, “and I’m  _ happy _ to comply.”

 

“Alicia,  _ please, _ ” he said softly, “you don’t have to do this—”

 

“— _ Actually _ ,” she interrupted, “I do. It’s  _ personal  _ now.”

 

Two copies stepped out of her, flanking her on either side, the men behind her unholstering their guns.

 

“You’re  _ filth _ —a traitor to your own kind!” Alicia spat.

 

“Alicia I had to!” He said, “I had to—they took my friend—”

 

“—Why would Jiaying do that?” Alicia said, looking down her nose at him and judging his words like they were a desperate lie, “What would be the purpose of that?”

 

Lincoln shrugged, “I don’t know—but she forced my friend through terrigenesis—”

 

“— _ Stop it! _ ” Alicia said, “Stop  _ lying! _ ”

 

She and her copies took a step forward. Then, out of nowhere, the whole world began to shake.

 

He turned and looked over his shoulder. Skye stood at the top of the staircase behind him. He turned fully around and called out to her,

 

“Skye!” he yelled, “Skye,  _ what are you doing? _ ”

 

She didn’t look at him though, she just stared at Alicia. The ground began to shake with more intensity. Alicia and her copies began to stumble around, the men behind her just barely able to keep their balance.

 

“Skye,  _ stop! _ ” Lincoln called, running towards her, “Skye you have  _ absolutely no control  _ over your gift yet!”

 

She clenched her fists and he fell forward onto the bottom step.

 

“ _ Skye! _ ” He cried desperately.

 

She turned to him, eyes wide with fear, “I—I can’t— _ I can’t stop! _ ”

 

“Just  _ breathe _ ,” he said in his normal voice, somehow making it carry to her.

 

She took a deep breath and kept eye-contact with him. One of the men regained his balance. He got down low. He lifted his gun and fired a shot. The earthquake stopped suddenly.

 

It echoed around Lincoln’s head and he flinched back, eyes closing for a millisecond. Skye’s eyes slipped closed. Her left shoulder led her as she fell down the stairs. Her hands trailed lazily after the rest of her body. Lincoln let out a cry of distress, standing and going up three of the steps.

 

He caught her before her head hit the ground. He lowered his knee and held her close. He took her pulse. Alicia straightened, her copies following suit.

 

He looked up at her darkly.

 

“Lincoln, just come quietly and we—”

 

He threw a hand up into the air and shot a bolt of lightning at one of the huge light fixtures above her head. He overloaded the power grid, turning all the lights off. Sparks fell down from the ceiling and she flinched back, putting her hands above her head to protect her face.

 

He grabbed the duffel bag and then scooped her up. He ran up the stairs and through the empty, dark train station. He moved towards a door and heard police sirens. He skidded to a halt and ran the opposite way.

 

He burst out through another pair of double doors and ran into the night.


End file.
